Time Bomb
by carcassi
Summary: The Chlarkcentric episode coda to Freak that was begging to be written! Not too long.


**A/N:** This, IMO, is how "Freak" should have ended. In my universe, anyway. I hope you enjoy!!

**TIME BOMB**

_He couldn't move. _

Clark Kent watched helplessly as his best friend, Chloe Sullivan, writhed in agony on the cold steel lab table, bathed in a sickly green glow and struggling against the heavy metal restraints that bound her arms and legs. The horror in her eyes mirrored his own.

Behind her, a shadowy figure stood just outside the pool of hideous light, viewing a collection of blinking monitors set into a tall control panel. "Very good," it remarked, in a calm, dispassionate voice that sent chills of recognition down Clark's spine. At once a thin red beam shot down from somewhere above the table, searing Chloe's shoulder.

She gasped and flailed uselessly as, slowly, the figure advanced closer. In the eerie radiance, Clark saw his own face, bending over his captive friend with eyes the color of burning coals. "Don't fight it," he heard himself say to her matter-of-factly. "It's necessary." Another beam of energy burst from his eyes, and Chloe screamed…

Clark jerked upright from his bed and realized that the screams were his own. Drawing a few ragged breaths, he clutched sheets damp with sweat as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal. The dreams were getting worse. This had to stop.

It had been almost two weeks since Chloe had begged him to turn his heat vision on her, to dig out the tracking chip hidden in her shoulder, but he hadn't been able to shake the memory. The vision of Chloe's face, wrenched in pain, haunted even his waking eyes, as clearly as if he'd burned the image into his brain. He remembered the fragile feel of her shoulders, shivering under his hands as he'd tried, so carefully, to hold them motionless without hurting her, fighting back his panic at what might happen if he missed his mark. He remembered the acrid smell of seared flesh and the sticky feel of her blood on his fingers.

His stomach twisted sickeningly as he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory. She insisted that he'd saved her life….but he could so easily have killed her. Killed _Chloe_.

It was his greatest fear. He knew that now. He'd never forget the horror of watching her shot to death in his barn, in that hideous phantom universe from which he'd barely escaped, or the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over him when he woke from the dream to discover her alive and well. The criminal who'd trapped him in that dream world had known what he himself had never realized until then: That the only way to destroy him was by destroying Chloe. Two weeks ago, he'd come far too close for his own comfort.

He wondered if the nightmare would ever go away. He wondered if he could ever face Chloe again. And yet, he knew he had to.

Chloe had been infected by the meteors, and, even if she wasn't the "walking time bomb" she thought she was, she needed his help now more than ever. Hadn't he promised to be her own personal bomb squad?

Curling his fingers in frustration, he struck the pillow, bursting a seam and releasing a cloud of feathers. Why should he be so afraid? It didn't make sense.

There was a soft knocking at his closed bedroom door, followed by his mother's anxious voice. "Clark? Are you alright?"

Geesh, he'd managed to scare his mother, too. "I'm OK, Mom. Sorry I woke you up."

The door cracked open enough for Clark to see a pair of concerned blue eyes. He managed a weak smile, but her eyes didn't change expression.

Martha pushed the door open a little wider, and she stepped inside, her auburn hair and yellow dressing gown paled by the moonlight. "We both know you're not OK, young man," she said severely, in that familiar "Mom sees all" tone that never failed to make Clark feel as though he were twelve years old. "You've hardly slept all week. I've heard you pacing the floor at all hours, and your bedroom light's been on whenever I look into the hall. You may not need as much sleep as most people," she went on, "but that can't be healthy." Her voice softened. "Is it because of Chloe?"

He looked up in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"You were calling out her name, just now."

"Oh." Clark suddenly found himself unable to meet her gaze. "It was only a bad dream…..I suppose it hit me harder than I thought, what I had to do to Chloe."

"I see." She adjusted the pile of blankets he'd kicked to the foot of his bed, then settled on top of them. "Do you know, I haven't heard you scream in your sleep since you were a little boy, just after we found you….I mean, you found us," she corrected, her cheeks dimpling. "You hated to be left alone; you used to follow Jonathan and me everywhere. Sometimes you'd wake up in the middle of the night, screaming words we couldn't understand, and you wouldn't go back to sleep unless I stayed in your room." One end of her mouth quirked upwards. "We didn't get much sleep in those first few months."

Clark smiled apologetically at his mother. "Sorry. That must've been tough."

Her own smile broadened into a grin. "Don't worry," she said, patting his hand. "In a way, it helped us feel like normal parents, having all those sleepless nights."

"I hope the nightmares didn't last too long, anyway. When did they stop?"

Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, filled with memory. "They faded out, little by little….I think we knew they were gone for good, the day you wandered outside, and played in the garden by yourself. I watched you from the kitchen window, and when you finally looked up and saw me, I waved. You just grinned and went right on playing. As if you knew we were always going to be there for you."

Her voice gentled. "Clark, Chloe isn't going to leave you either."

Clark nodded. "I know that, Mom. I just hate the thought that I hurt her."

"Is that why you're ignoring her? Because you hurt her? Or is it," she went on, peering at him through the gloom, "because you don't want to be hurt, yourself?"

The sudden question made Clark glance up sharply. His mother studied his face with pursed lips. "Clark, she's called and left at least half-a-dozen messages, and unless I'm very much mistaken, you've never called her back. If you hate the thought of hurting her, you have a funny way of showing it." She eyed him sternly. "So tell me. What, exactly, are you afraid of?"

He squirmed uncomfortably at the mild reproof in her tone. It was true, he'd been avoiding Chloe, but he couldn't help it. It was too painful to see her. Besides, Chloe was better off without him. She was happier spending time with what's-his-name, the boy wonder photographer.

Martha's gaze was steady. "You promised to protect her, didn't you? It must be a very frightening feeling, not knowing how, or when, or if, you'll wake up one morning with a new set of strange abilities." Her lips curved upwards. "That's something you and she have very much in common. But Chloe's not used to it, the way you are."

He lifted his chin, finally looking her squarely in the eyes. "Of course I'll protect her," he answered, with a touch of defiance. "I just think it'd be better for both of us if I'm not hanging around her as much as I have been." He hesitated. "After all, it's not as if she's lonely."

He regretted the last sentence almost before it left his lips, especially after he saw his mother's raised eyebrows. "Ah," she replied, slowly, "I see."

He squirmed under that bright scrutiny, mentally kicking himself for giving his mother the wrong impression. He was _happy_ Chloe had a boyfriend, and he wasn't, under any stretch of the imagination, jealous of Jimmy Olsen.

To his immense relief, she failed to press the subject. "I think you're making a mistake," she remarked, in a much brisker tone, as she rose to her feet. "You need to talk to Chloe."

He stared. "Why?"

Clark wondered why her smile deepened. "I know how much Chloe means to you, Clark. I wonder if you do."

He listened to her footsteps retreating across the creaking floorboards of the old hallway, and decided his mother might be right. He at least owed Chloe an apology.

The next morning was Saturday and, predictably, Chloe was hanging out at the Talon at her favorite table, with what had to be at least her second latte of the day. Just as predictably, Jimmy was with her.

Their heads were bent over the front page of the Saturday edition of the _Daily Planet_'s Saturday edition, her blonde curls contrasting with his spiky red hair. Clark tried not to think about the many times he and Chloe had shared that very same table, in that very same posture.

They were both so intent that neither looked up as Clark walked in. He cleared his throat.

Chloe's head popped up at once, but her bright grin faded as she caught sight of Clark. He tried unsuccessfully to coax it back with a smile; when the polite mask remained in place, Clark's heart sank to his shoes. Clearly, this was going to be even tougher than he'd thought. "Hi," she said, flatly. "Long time, no see."

A lump showed plainly under the thin material of her red blouse, just over her collarbone, where Clark had placed the thick gauze bandage. Apparently, it was taking a long time to heal. He winced inwardly. "I, um…Hi," he replied, uncomfortably aware of Jimmy's eyes darting curiously between them. He struggled to remember what it was he'd wanted to say. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately….."

"I understand, you've been busy." The cold tone matched her smile. It was the first time he'd seen that particular expression on her face, and it hit him with almost physical force. "It's OK."

Clark wished, gloomily, that she'd said anything except that.

"No, it's not." He glanced at Jimmy, who by now had caught the change in Chloe's mood. Jimmy returned the glance accusingly.

Clark ignored him. "Can we talk? Alone?"

"Well, I…."

"Please." He walked toward an alcove a few yards away and waited, expectantly. Chloe rose slowly to join him, as her boyfriend watched with an expression like a thundercloud.

"Don't let your latte get cold, Bright Eyes." Jimmy's warning sounded behind them, as he aimed a final disapproving scowl in Clark's direction.

She nodded at him from across the room and turned to face Clark. "I guess I've discovered my meteor power," she said, with a tight smile, dropping her voice to a whisper. Behind her, Clark noticed Jimmy tapping the table impatiently, obviously frustrated to be left out of their conversation. "I've developed the freakish ability to repel all alien life forms in Smallville."

Her tone was bright, but the hurt in those wide hazel eyes was unmistakeable. Clark realized, guiltily, that his self-imposed exile had done far more harm than he'd thought.

"I _am_ sorry," he began, but she cut him off.

"I really do understand, Clark. It must be a little nerve-wracking, having a Girl Friday who's a latent meteor freak." Chloe laughed, shakily. "A Girl Friday isn't much use if you can't count on her."

A tear spilled down her cheek; without thinking, he reached out to brush it off, gently. "You mean a lot more to me than that, Chlo', and you know it."

She pulled back from his touch and bit her lower lip, which, Clark noticed, was trembling. "These past two weeks have been scary for me, Clark. I really needed you." Now that she stood next to him, he could see the faint circles underneath her eyes, and realized, with a wrench, that he hadn't been the only one who'd gone without sleep recently. He didn't want to imagine what sort of nightmares had kept her up. "I guess I was expecting a little too much."

The resigned note in her voice was heart-breaking. He hesitated, then reached out to rest his hands lightly, almost tentatively, on her shoulders, holding her eyes with his.

She sniffled softly, and looked away, but made no move to shake herself free. Somewhere across the room, a chair was pushed back noisily.

"No, you weren't," he said quietly. "I should have been here for you. I didn't ignore you because I don't care about you, Chloe. The truth is, I was afraid, too."

Tears swam in her eyes as she raised them to meet his, tilting her head in the inquisitive way that he knew so well. "Afraid of what?"

The recurring nightmare flashed through his mind, and he shivered involuntarily. There was no need, he thought, to share that horror with Chloe, but at least he understood its meaning. "I was afraid of being hurt," he confessed, echoing his mother's words. He knew, now, what she'd been trying to tell him, last night.

He lifted one hand from her shoulder and gently touched the lumpy shape of the bandage underneath her blouse. "When I did this to you….it made me realize how easy it would've been to lose you. I couldn't take that, Chloe. You're too important to me."

His hands cupped her face, and he felt the slight, warm pressure of her cheek against his palm. "I love you." The words came without thinking, startling him, but he realized that they were true. "Please don't leave me."

Somewhere a world away, a chair crashed to the floor; neither of them paid any attention. Clark slowly lowered his head and watched Chloe's tear-filled eyes widen in shock, then soften, as his lips brushed against hers. Blinking away the tears, she responded, lacing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Her heartbeat raced against his chest, as rapid as a small bird's.

Chloe tasted like bottled sunshine. He could feel her warmth spreading through his whole body, melting away the last shreds of his nightmare.

The Talon's door slammed, jolting them back to reality. Chloe broke off the kiss and swiveled her head. "There goes Jimmy," she sighed. "I'd better talk to him later." She lifted her chin to study Clark's face, lips curving into a smile that was, blessedly, anything but cold. "You know, when I said I was a walking time bomb, I wasn't really looking for this kind of an explosion." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you sure this doesn't have something to do with the meteors? You didn't run into some stray red rocks on the way here, did you?"

He grinned back, stroking her hair and shaking his head. "No, but I did discover a new ability. Maybe I'm the time bomb, not you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? What new ability?"

He met her curious gaze with a smile and a rueful shrug. "Clear eyesight. I should have realized a long time ago how I really felt about you, Chloe. As scary as this meteor infection might be, I'll always be grateful that it helped me see the obvious." Clark paused, pulling back from her a little as he searched her face anxiously. "That is, um, assuming you feel the same way?"

For a long moment, Chloe didn't answer, staring away from him with hooded eyes while Clark waited, holding his breath. When her gaze returned to him, it was bright with understanding, and something more. Whatever it was, it made Clark feel as if he was floating on air. "You know," she whispered throatily, taking his arms and drawing him back against her, "It sounds as if you need a personal bomb squad." She smiled into his eyes. "I'll be happy to volunteer."

**THE END**


End file.
